The Unwelcome Intrusion: A Sonic the Hedgehog Story
by Beagleman1996
Summary: Sonic and Tails find themselves questioning everything they know about both themselves, and the world they live in upon their discovery of a young monkey with a background that G.U.N, not least Dr. Eggman, would kill to keep a secret. * Prologue and Chapter 1 up*
1. Prologue

**The Unwelcome Intrusion: A Sonic the Hedgehog Story**

 _ **Prologue: 4 Months earlier**_

Sonic the Hedgehog was never known for making a discreet entrance at the best of times, but on this occasion, discreetness was well and truly off the cards; knocking on a door was overrated anyway.

"This oughta' do it!" he thought determinedly, charging up a powerful spin-dash and rocketing towards a fiercely thick steel door that was forced to cower under his attack, breaking away from its hinges and flying uninvited into the small, box-like prison cell it had been guarding. Its trajectory narrowly missed a bewildered, ageing mole, bound by his wrists to a decrepit wooden chair in the centre of the room; his expression quickly turned around when he saw who had caused the door to replicate a sun-lounger whisked up in a hurricane.

"Evenin' Prof'; hope I'm not interruptin' your thought process or somethin' like that" Sonic chuckled, standing confidently to his feet from his crouched position.

"Oh thank goodness you're here, Sonic; the guards will be coming back any minute now!" the mole exclaimed, managing to turn his head around enough to catch a glimpse of his watch and rocking the chair back and forth to signify his desire for haste.

"Cool it burrow-boy; I'm in no rush." With a demeanour far calmer than he should have had any right to portray, Sonic leisurely sauntered around to the back of the chair, but quickly adopted a fighting stance.

"Alright, in all seriousness though, hold still" he ordered, and upon the mole's adherence, Sonic expertly judged an in-situ spin-dash; the tips of his rapidly rotating spikes slicing clean through the rope binding the Professor's paws together but leaving the body they held captive unharmed. Instantly the mole swung his free arms up into the air and sighed with contentment as his bones clicked, getting to his feet and enjoying the ability to walk without a chair strapped to him.

"I'll apologise in advance to your legs; they've only just enjoyed bein' back on the ground, but if we plan on gettin' outta' here before next summer, you've gotta be _damseled_ out, if you know what I mean" Sonic quipped, but with a distinctly serious undertone. The mole didn't even respond verbally; he quickly nodded in affirmation, before falling back into Sonic's now outstretched arms with surprising grace.

"Right; ready to taste the outside world again, Molenowski?"

"Enough chatter; just complete what you came here for, _please_ " the mole attempted to order, though his request came out more as a plea.

"No prob; sit tight and we'll be outta' here in no time; I suggest you do what moles do best and bury your head" Sonic chuckled, before pushing his back foot against the concrete, with the resulting force flinging the hedgehog forwards in a gust of wind. The soles of his shoes skidded like a wounded tyre as he applied the brakes, turned to his left upon leaving the cell, and rocketed along the cold, stone-walled hallway; his jibe about Molenowski's species materialising as the mole found himself unable to even look forwards, such was the ferocity of their speed. Almost immediately, loud, monotone alarm bells ricocheted off the pair's ears, with a sudden batch of egg-pawns bursting out of doors embedded deeply into the walls and adopting a painfully misplaced fighting stance.

"Comin' through; professor to save!" Sonic exclaimed jovially, leaning backwards, slamming his right hand into the floor and sticking his legs out as if he was tackling a football player, with instant effect; the blue blur careened through the cluster of helpless egg pawns as if they were mere bowling pins and sending shards of twisted metal flying in all directions. Leaping gracefully back onto his rapidly spinning feet and clasping his hands around the mole's torso to stop him falling out, Sonic skidded around a series of ninety-degree corners linked by uniform, bland, white hallways, before slowing down slightly in order to bring the wrist-mounted communicator wrapped around his rapidly shaking wrist up to his face.

"Alright Tails, lookin' good up there?" There was a small, high-pitched _beep_ , accompanied by the illumination of Sonic's face as the screen burst into life, with the fox in question nodding intently back at him.

"It's all clear, and in more ways than one, actually; the weather really is lovely out here."

"I'll bet ol' Molenowski can't wait to taste it" Sonic quipped, "Alright, I'm clearin' traffic here; be out in a lick." He racked his brain to recall the wireframe computer model of Dr. Eggman's forest base that Tails had coded for him before setting off, but he needn't have bothered; simply re-tracing his steps had brought him to an unassuming, square steel door that barricaded the end of this hallway; at least, it _would_ have done, were it not for a gaping, ragged, oblong-shaped hole punctured through the steel that showed exactly how Sonic had entered the building.

"So long, egg-face!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he leapt gracefully through the hole and quietly sighed as the cool, fresh outside air brushed against the receptors of his various senses. Molenowski, if anything, was even happier than he to be outside once more, but his voice was irrefutably drowned out by the gargantuan whirlwind generated in Sonic's wake; the mole buried his snout in Sonic's tan torso fur, having almost lost his black-rimmed, circular spectacles upon attempting to communicate. Trees became a mess of brown, parallel lines as the blue blur darted, quick-stepped and drifted his way across, over and _under_ even the worst that the forest had to throw at him, and before either of them knew it, the layers of foliage had given way to lush, rolling fields, topped with blossoming sunflowers and circular haystacks that basked in the warm sunset.

"I hope my speed won't set off an earthquake!" Sonic quipped, finally slowing down to the point where Molenowski could finally hear his own voice as he responded.

"No-no, I wouldn't worry; Cloverleaf Forest is nowhere near any plate boundaries."

"Well you're the expert on _that_ , and…woah, talk about a welcome party; I kinda' think I turned up early!" Sonic grinned, amused and somewhat surprised at the battalion of camouflage-liveried Military vehicles parked atop the small hill that had just come into view.

"Alright Sonic, you can put me down, now; I have _feet_ , you know" Molenowski ordered, beginning to wriggle out of his arms.

"Yeah, all two cubic millimetres of them; O.K, O.K, I'll put you down when we get there. The egghead has a nasty habit of pluckin' people I'm carrying outta my arms at the last second, I'll say _that_ much" Sonic muttered, rolling his eyes before ducking and turning his head slightly as the low-hanging sun caught his eyes over the top of the hill.

"My goodness, slow down or we'll careen into them!" Molenowski cried, as their proximity to the G.U.N vehicles suddenly became apparent. Sonic's adherence came in the form of flying dirt as his now sideways, slanted red running shoes buried themselves into the soft ground; the earth flinging upwards and caking the nearby jeeps, as well as two unluckily-positioned soldiers.

"Sorry boys; I think I got you a little too close to nature! Anyways, one professor, safe and sound" Sonic gestured, taking a mock bow before adopting his classic victory pose.

"Good work, Sonic; Brent, alert the Commander" the buff antelope solider ordered to the slim otter alongside him; his monotone, gruff drawl cementing their mood.

"There won't be any need for _that_ " announced a formal, sharp, authoritative voice, with its owner already several steps ahead of the two soldiers as he increased his distance from the silver Lexus IS 220d that he'd just stepped out of. As out of place with the surroundings as his car, a suit-toting, ageing brown monkey coolly, but sure-footedly approached the group; his ice-cold, razor-sharp eyes piercing into Sonic's contrastingly alert, jovial pair. The blue blur suddenly noticed that both the Soldiers had not only snapped into hastily-adopted salutes, but almost all colour had drained from their faces; the reason for which was revealed the second the otter opened his muzzle.

"Operation successful, Agent One, _Sir_." The monkey muttered an incomprehensible string of words under his breath, and calmly gestured with a thin, bony finger towards the ambulance that had just arrived at the scene.

"Spare me the pantomime and just take that mole to the ambulance" he spat, without even the courtesy to look the soldiers directly in the eye.

"Yes sir!" they responded in unison, quickly grabbing Molenowski's minute arms and practically dragging him away; such was their nervous haste. Agent One, to Sonic's puzzlement, proceeded to hold his hand against his forehead and emit a barely-audible sigh, but one that was tinged with unmistakeable contempt.

"Sonic, I thought I made it _clear_ beforehand that your mission was _not_ to rescue Professor Molenowski, but to determine the existence of _crucial_ intelligence linking Doctor Eggman to the multi-national weapons-smuggling operation that we have spent _eight months_ tracking down!" his voice rose to a fierce shout, with the final word a harsh snap. Sonic raised an eyebrow, and couldn't stop himself chuckling.

"Sorry to poison your drink, ol' pal, but I'm not one for _scavenging_ missions; you really should've hired my knuckle-head friend for that; no, I help people, simple as. You've been in this game for how long, exactly? _Surely_ you'd know by know who I am!"

"I suggest that you talk to me with a damn-side more respect, you arrogant tyke; thanks to you, the Doctor likely now knows that we're watching him. This-was-not-your- _mission_!" At that moment, a sight Sonic would've never expected he'd genuinely be happy to see came screeching into the impromptu car-park of vehicles, in the form of two battered vans with thin, wire ariels poking out of their roofs. Within seconds, a raft of microphones had been shoved between the fuming monkey and Sonic; their black, felt tips rubbing irritatingly into his face.

"Ya' know, guys, I'd prefer it if we did business over _here_ " Sonic chuckled, doffing an imaginary cap to Agent One and sauntering a good few paces away from him.

"Sonic, can you tell us how easy it was to rescue the Professor? Did you encounter any traps?" demanded an obese pig in an ill-fitting coat.

"Pff, it was no sweat; I think I surprised the Doc' good this time."

"Did you have any help?"

"Uhh-" Sonic pondered, before the answer to his question materialised five-hundred feet above them. The harsh rumble of a bi-plane engine ricocheted across the halcyon sky as the bright red contraption, adorned with a two-tailed logo painstakingly hand-painted onto its rudder as well as yellow-tipped wings, glinted against the sunlight before swinging downwards and gliding gracefully onto the multitude of corn layers, coming to a gentle, controlled stop a few paces behind them. The rapidly spinning propeller was gradually brought to a halt as the pilot scrambled out and twirled his namesakes to hover down to the soft earth below.

"I do worry when even _I_ expected more of a challenge!" Tails laughed as he sauntered towards them, "there were only two, grounded moto-bugs I had to take care of."

"So…yeah, I had Tails here create a plan of Dr. Eggman's base so I could find my way around more easily; it was really just a glorified map, and"

"Um, it was _slightly_ more useful than that" Tails remarked; a frown beginning to form across his face, "I mean, it showed you the various floors, where the robot holding bays were, and"

"…but really, it was all just in a day's work for us, eh Tails?" Sonic chuckled, resting his arm across Tails' back and patting his shoulder affectionately.

"I…I guess, yes it was." The pig, however, was not finished.

"So do you think this relates to the bouts of arrests made in conjunction with this weapons-smuggling operation under investigation right now?"

"I…" Sonic began, before the glinting sun became a visual representation of an idea that had just sprung into his head, "I tell ya' what; why don't you ask _that_ guy?" he gestured towards Agent One, grinning and giving the suddenly bemused monkey a cocky wink. The news reporters didn't need asking twice; practically tripping over their own microphone leads, they scrambled towards the source of Sonic's quip and quickly blocked him from view.

"Right, that's them sorted; you fancy a chilli dog, buddy?"

"Oh for sure, but I have a gut feeling that…I don't know, something wasn't right with this whole rescue mission" Tails pondered, placing his thumb and forefinger up to his mouth as he racked his brain.

"Which was?" Sonic inquired, beginning to saunter back to the plane.

"...the fact that, by the sounds of it, you encountered barely _any_ internal resistance while rescuing the Professor, and more to the point, it was almost _too_ plain sailing for me, too." Sonic snorted.

"Tails, that's why it's called a _surprise_ attack; the egg-head must've been too busy elongating his moustache to notice me; that's not surprising, though; they don't call me the 'blue blur' for nothin'."

"All I can say is that I hope my hunch is wrong" Tails murmured forebodingly, "Dr. Eggman doesn't have an I.Q of 300 _for nothing_ either. Come on, let's just head back to my workshop."

"Anythin' to get me away from that Agent One dude; I mean _sheesh_ , what is that guy's problem?"

* * *

A quintuplet of spherical, deep-set headlights arced their way slowly around a remote junction, with the low, menacing growl emanating from the car's twin-cam engine to the illusion of a focused predator, ready to eat up its prey that was the rutted tarmac in front of it. The driver gently brought the car to a stop at the beginning of a narrow, sweeping country road lined with trees that seemed to bow down to its users, before turning to face its perplexed passenger.

"Is…everythin' alright, Mom? Why've we stopped?" asked a tall, lanky brown monkey, adjusting the collar of his sweaty, non-descript rally car T-shirt as he stared with confusion at the slender, red fox smiling down at him.

"Well, I would've thought you'd be bored by now of all those first-gear laps around that car park, wouldn't you?" she asked rhetorically; her smile widening considerably.

"Wait, you're not seriously gonna'…" his eyes lit up, "oh, hell yeah!" he exclaimed with pure excitement, not needing to be asked twice as he fist pumped the air before frantically undoing his seatbelt and fumbling for the door handle. The soothing, warm evening air gently cossetted his fur as his thick, green wellington boots crunched onto the pot-holed asphalt, before he proceeded around the back of the car, briefly illuminated by the red tint of the four oblong, chrome-trimmed rear lights. Upon passing him, the fox ruffled his messy crop of hair affectionately and winked encouragingly, causing the young monkey to giggle with excitement as he scrambled into the black vinyl drivers' seat. The amount of seat adjustment he needed was surprisingly little for a twelve-year-old; his physique was to thank for that, and soon he was peering in anticipation over the black, four-spoked steering wheel and re-familiarising himself with the feel of the controls. Once back inside the car, though, his mother's tone had become decidedly more serious.

"Now Connor, normal road rules apply; stick to the speed limit and no crazy manoeuvres, but if any police do, on the off chance, happen to come past, then just keep driving; I've been practicing my mime-wheel-holding act quite a bit while you've been gone" she chuckled, causing Connor to do the same as she demonstrated her unorthodox police-avoidance tactic, before abruptly stopping and pointing down to the cumbersome, oak-adorned gear lever.

"Well then, drive us home, little chauffeur; that trout in the boot won't work its way into a Fish Pie by magic now, will it?" Connor began to salivate at the thought of a warm, comfort-meal waiting for him back home, but forced his attention to snap onto the inviting tarmac that beckoned towards the horizon. Exhaling deeply to calm his nerves, he slowly disengaged the clutch, wrestled the gear-lever into first and began to lightly feather the throttle; his eyes fixated on the tachometer as the orange dial crept up to two-thousand rpm, then three, before his feet began to move inversely proportional to one another; his left boot gingerly released the heavy clutch as his right incrementally applied more power and, to his silent relief, the car began to move off without so much as a judder.

"I see you haven't forgotten" his mother beamed, but Connor ignored her; changing gear was something he had never done before, and he was determined to get it right first time. As the tachometer crept over four thousand rpm, he shoved the clutch to the floor as he released the throttle, before pulling the tall gear-lever into second and repeating the prior pedal movement, only in considerably quicker succession. Somehow, the gear engaged as if the cogs were made of butter, causing his mother to widen her eyes in pure amazement.

"Well done little man!" she exclaimed; the lack of any further praise betraying her internal annoyance at the fact that it had taken her almost five years of driving to achieve a gear change even nearly as smooth as the one Connor had just performed.

"Thanks" Connor mumbled, snapping his eyes back to the view atop the oblong facia as the growling 2T-G engine pulled the car up to the speed limit and slightly beyond, before he remembered the part about not attracting attention, and hastily reduced his pressure on the throttle.

"You're a natural, Connor, you really are; maybe consider trying your hand in some competitive motorsport further down the line. I shouldn't need to remind you, though; do _not_ , under any circumstances, tell your father about this; he doesn't even know I've given you driving lessons at all." Connor's mouth began to form a smile, but at the mention of his father, it abruptly vanished, to be replaced with a forlorn, somewhat interrogating frown.

"Hey, Mom" he began, turning his head to face her, "why did Dad just pack me to the camp like that? It's like one minute he doesn't give a damn about me, then the next he just turns up outta' nowhere and does _this_ without so much as a bye-your-leave _;_ he acts like it was just to get me out of the way or somethin'." The fox's body suddenly tensed, with her eyes widening and snapping into focus.

"No Connor, that's...that's not it at all; you know how busy the life of a bank boss can be, and he genuinely cares for your well-being as much as I do. However, he..." she sighed painfully, "he felt that you were becoming too… _soft_ ; that you needed some discipline. _Now_ " she added, sensing that Connor had been about to intercept, "believe you me; if it was purely my decision, you'd be about to start your sixth year of Station Square Elementary right about now, but-"

"Seriously, how _do_ you put up with him?" Connor cut in desperately, momentarily taking his hands off the wheel to perform an incredulous gesture, "I mean, _correct me if I'm wrong_ , but he's such a stuck-up, big-headed prick who _-_ "

"Keep your eyes on the road!" she snapped, frantically grabbing the left-hand-side of the wheel and pulling it round as the tyres wandered off the tarmac and skirted the grass verge. Connor quickly clasped his hands back around the wheel, but froze with shock as his mother slapped the back of his ear with uncharacteristic severity.

"You watch your tone, young man; I do _not_ appreciate you talking about your Father in that way."

"But Mom, I fu… _freaking_ hate that dump! Yeah I didn't exactly like school either, but I'd take that any day over stupid forced marching and playing with toy rifles! _Please_ , please talk to him; I'll back you up, I promise" he begged; his eyes beginning to moisten. The fox gently brought her paw to her forehead; shaking her head gently and muttering under her breath.

"Connor, I…" she began, internally brain-storming her next words, "look, you're too young to understand this, but he and I, we've…we've _both_ done things in the past that we're not proud of, alright? Your Father works hard to keep us all fed and watered; he knew best, and I couldn't override his judgement…at least not back _then_."

"Huh?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity; anxious to determine the path of the conversation.

"I can't make any promises, but if I can sort out some ongoing personal things in my life, then you may just be able to go back to _a_ school, at the very least. This _will_ be a long process, and I highly doubt your Father will take very kindly to it, but all you need to know is that, if it all works out, this coming term at the Cadet Camp will be your last; the point is, we'll be fine, whatever happens. Look on the bright side; you've still got a week of summer left, and I intend for you to make the most of it; you've watched enough rally videos up until now, so it's high time you got outside and enjoyed the weather."

"I guess" Connor muttered forlornly, hanging his head and staring disinterestedly at the white, dragon-boat logo engraved into the centre of the steering wheel. Sighing with pained empathy, Joanne placed her paw against his shoulder and patted it gently.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you, alright? Try not to worry about what goes on between Dad and I; my parents always taught me to see the opportunity in every difficulty, and it'll serve you well if you do the same. I'll put your Nik Kershaw cassette on, if you want; take your mind off it for a little bit."

* * *

Some people were impossible to please, and with Agent One's dismay at the colour, touch-screen satellite navigation in his Lexus being just a fraction too slow for his liking, it was very clear that he was such a person. Attempting to relax as best he could into the sumptuous, cream leather seat, the stone-faced monkey set his eyes dead ahead on the monotonous, crawling traffic of the supposedly 'Smart' motorway that had just been installed. He clasped his phone to his ear, feeling a brief but fulfilling sense of satisfaction at the law-change he'd pushed so hard for that enabled him to do this; Road Safety Experts, it turned out, could be overruled surprisingly easily.

"I appreciate your backing, Commander" he spoke formally into the mouthpiece, "Rest assured that the instructions I gave to Sonic were crystal clear. While there is still no concrete evidence linking Doctor Eggman into our mission, it doesn't exactly take a genius to deduce that he is, without a doubt, planning something malicious, but ideally if you could keep that nosy hedgehog out of any future undertakings we need to perform, then I would be immensely grateful." There was a quiet hum of agreement from the other end of the phone.

"As you wish, Brian, but you must understand that Sonic is of significant use to us; he's helped G.U.N out countless times and is beloved by many, though I will agree he could do without that smart mouth from time to time. Now, you brought up some more _personal_ matters in our discussion yesterday; care to elaborate on those?" Brian's hands suddenly tightened around the steering wheel.

"With pleasure; Connor will remain at the Cadet Camp, but Joanne? She has been up to some _irreparable deeds_ behind my back, and, the sooner I hold her to account, the better. The plans I have mentally drafted are firmly in place, and over the next few months there will be sweeping, immediate changes to our family; that much I will ensure."

* * *

A stray flock of pigeons scattered in fear as the svelte, Japanese coupé whisked past; its exhaust generating a succession of crackles on the overrun as Connor gingerly guided the nose off the main road and into the gravel drive of a single-storey, picturesque limestone cottage, with the surface crunching under-tyre. Immediately, however, Joanne's eyes, that had been relaxed and calm, shot wide open upon the sight of a second vehicle in the driveway; a Silver Lexus IS 200d sat perpendicular to the house, with its soft, graceful aurora a stark contrast to its owner.

"Oh, that's…odd; your Father's home. He…" Joanne quickly fished her phone from her pocket and began to frantically scan through the call log and text messages, with both coming up fruitless, "he didn't try to contact me at all."

"Which means…?" Connor inquired; narrowing his eyes as he brought the car to a stop and ratcheted the handbrake into place. His muscles tensed as a thin film of sweat on his Mother's forehead was revealed, reflected by the low, orange sunset filtering into the cabin; so much so that he forgot to disengage first gear before lifting his boot off the clutch, promptly stalling the engine.

"…that something isn't right; your Father _always_ calls me before he comes home." An interrogating frown formed itself across Connor's face as he switched off the ignition and began to climb out of the car; actively beckoning his mother as he did so.

"Connor, wait; let me go first; you're not supposed to be driving, remember?!" Joanne hissed, grabbing the keys from his curled hand before quickly scrambling out of the car but, as they were both about to find out, she was too late; the house's oak front door creaked against its hinges as it was pulled slowly open with as much menace as the stare worn by the person who'd opened it.

"Remind me, Joanne, you did buy a _left-_ hand drive Celica, didn't you?" Brian inquired with unsettling calmness, before narrowing his eyes, "oh, silly me; you _didn't_. What, in the name of all that's holy, is Connor doing behind the wheel?" he hissed, darting his cold, piercing eyes between the pair of them and leaning against the ajar door.

"Oh, just giving him some driving practice, that's all; he'll be a better future driver because of it, right Connor?" Joanne chuckled nervously without looking at the now trembling monkey; his hands in his pockets and his head turned well away from the glaring figure who barred the porch. It was clear Brian was in no mood for quips; he snapped his fingers together authoritatively before pointing to his left.

"Inside, both of you; _now_." What was normally a simple, few-steps walk up to the house's porch became a slow, daunting march towards the gallows as Joanne and Connor were forced to obey; neither willing to look Brian directly in the eye as the pair trapsed slowly past him and towards the previously cosy, oak-floored entrance area of the cottage. A look of physical disgust etched itself across his face upon the sight of Connor's filthy wellies; a bony finger abruptly shot towards them.

"Take those godforsaken things off, Connor; if they stain the floor there _will_ be consequences." Still without a word, Connor turned on his mud-coated heel and kicked his boots off his feet, where they flopped lifelessly against the door mat. The door was abruptly slammed behind them as Brian cricked his hands together, before snapping his fingers once more and putting on a piercing glare as Connor and Joanne turned to face him.

"Now Joanne, there's a few… _irritancies_ that you and I need to sort out. Connor, go to your room; this doesn't concern you." Connor's muscles pulled at his joints to adhere, but his brain overrode both of them and kept him firmly in place.

"But…but…" he stammered, with Brian's eyes narrowing even further.

"Did I not make myself clear? Off you go; haven't you got any homework to do?"

" _Screw_ homework; I'm staying right-" he was forced to snap his mouth shut as the grey-haired, stone-faced monkey clasped his hand like a hawk's claw around Joanne's arm and pulled it upright, before beginning to drag her towards the lounge.

"Hey, let her go!"

"Connor, _please_ , just do as he says!" Joanne cried; her eyes moistening as they pleaded with his. Her sudden, and complete loss of face sent a crystal-clear message to Connor; with her plea resonating through him, he frantically nodded, before his striped socks almost lost their grip on the slippery wooden floor; such was the haste at which he turned on his heel. Connor dashed through the hallway towards his bedroom and slammed it shut; pure panic having kicked rational thinking out of the window. With his heart-rate tripled, Connor fumbled for a history textbook that he was supposed to have read long ago and slumped onto his desk chair, holding back tears as even the simple act of finding the right page became a frantic mess.

"Tamaki, the great warrior…fought for the people…a historic victory…"

The words on the page seemed to actively dissolve into a series of indistinguishable parallel lines as Connor's mind wrestled its attention between the overly-patriotic, dry history textbook and whatever was going on downstairs; the open window beckoned him to try and climb down the outside of the house to gain a vantage point into the lounge, but the stare his Father had given him beforehand was enough to make even a hardened criminal wince. Suddenly, the worrying sound of barely audible, but clearly distressed footsteps echoed from the wooden floor in the hallway and into the bedroom, before Connor found his blood running cold from what followed; the creaking, and subsequent slamming of the front door ricocheted around the bedroom walls, trembling the posters and seeming to envelop the entire room. It was the footsteps themselves, though, that had shaken him to the core; they had been undeniably female in tone.

"Oh please God, no…" he whispered; his muscles now working independently of his brain as he scrambled to his feet and lunged for the door, but at the exact moment his hand clasped around the rusty, brass knob, it was pushed firmly open from the other side; the metal catching his forehead and sending him stumbling backwards onto the thin, square patch of carpet next to his bed.

"Do try to watch where you're going" Brian spat, practically storming into his bedroom and shoving the door shut behind him; Connor frantically leapt back onto his feet and faced his Father down with the fiercest glare he could muster.

"Alright Dad, what happened? Where's Mom?" Connor snapped, shooting an outstretched finger towards the oddly calm, aged monkey; behind the façade, however, Brian was having to force himself quite strongly to conceal his anger; his cheeks were red and his breathing quick, but heavy.

"You do not need to know the _intimacies_ of what your Mother and I discussed, Connor, but I should tell you right now that you will never, _ever_ see her again." A ten-tonne anvil dropped inside of him.

" _What?"_ he whispered incredulously, internally tearing at his brain to make sure it wasn't deceiving him.

"Quite apart from her _pathetic_ desire for you to return to the spoon-fed, creature comfort world of primary school, she had the gall to commit an inexcusable act against me; I was left with no option but to send her away. Now, _you_ " he held up a bony finger to halt Connor's frantic interception, "will be raised _exactly_ the way I intended; whether you like it or not, you will remain at the Mobius Cadet Camp until you are seventeen, upon which you will join the Special Forces and fight for your country; on top of that, if anyone asks, you are to tell them that your parents _tragically_ died in a house fire, and you are now living with foster parents. You can forget any and all plans you might have had for the rest of the holiday; we're moving halfway across the country come tomorrow morning." Now physically shaking, the gap between Connor's upper and lower lips had grown increasingly wide, with his eyes quickly following suit; his brain had gone into overdrive, unable to comprehend what he had just been told.

"How…wha… _why_ are you doing this?" he cried; his eyes beginning to moisten.

"Don't ask questions; just do as you're told, otherwise believe me, Connor, there will be serious consequences, and not just for you." Connor's overwhelmed brain, however, had decided on-the-spot that defiance was the best course of action.

"No…" he growled as menacingly as he could, "no, you're not getting' away with this, I'll-"

"You can talk tough all you like; at the end of the day, you are completely powerless, so I suggest you shut up and do as you're told. Get packing, and _sharp_ ; we've wasted enough time already" he snapped, turning on his heel and marching confidently out of the door; slamming it behind him with such force that the clock hanging on the wall beside it dropped off its hinge and crashed onto the ground. Standing motionless in the centre of the room, Connor's trembling body pulled itself towards his bed and, with his vision swimming, he buried his head deeply into the pillow, and burst into a mess of loud, profuse sobs.


	2. Chapter 1: A Dog-eat-Dog World

**Chapter 1: A Dog-eat-dog World**

"Drip…drip…drip"; the repetitive splash of filthy water droplets, falling vertically from a leaking pipe running adjacent to the wall of the drafty wooden building, was the only sound brave enough to break the painful silence within it. As was the norm of a lecture situation, when the lecturer _dared_ to actually make his attendees participate and answer an incredibly simple question, he would receive nothing more in response than a succession of extremely awkward glances, both at the walls, and at each other; a scenario that would be made even more awkward if the lecturer was barely into his teens.

"So, can anyone tell me what a carburettor does?" he asked; his timid request falling almost completely on deaf ears. A group of twenty, quite literally uniformly-dressed anthropomorphic animal cadets were stood in a haphazard quarter-circle, a stone's throw away from an ancient, equally camouflage-laden Series Three Land Rover; its menacing V8 engine proudly on display below a bonnet shakily held open by a thick oak stick. To its left, leaning simultaneously against the top of its front wing, and a step-ladder, stood a grey, short-haired dog with over-sized, floppy ears that dwarfed the side of his face. He couldn't have looked more nervous if he'd tried; the spanner in his hand was continually knocking against the car from the severity of its shaking, and one could have sworn his sandy beige overalls had turned an ever-so-slightly darker colour under his armpits from when the class had started. There was good reason for this; the Mobius Cadet Camp had been either blessed, or cursed, depending on one's interest in the matter, with only _one_ Army-trained mechanic, who was currently on an extremely short notice mission in Shamar. Not content with cancelling anything, the camp's First Officer had put a request out to the Cadets, asking if _any_ of them would be up to covering one of the classes; the dog had been the only volunteer, but at this exact moment he was severely beginning to regret it.

"Anyone? Have I just been garbling double-dutch to you for the past ten minutes?" he inquired, trying to sound as authoritative as a thirteen-year-old could possibly manage.

"Alright, it's a valve-controlled mechanism for modulating the ratio of fuel to air that reaches the combustion chamber, since no-one's bothering to answer; that good enough for you, Sam?" All eyes swung round to the one voice brave enough to break the silence, with two burly hippos helpfully stepping aside to allow the relieved dog the chance to see who, it seemed, _had_ been listening. Connor, his arms folded and a dominant, cocky expression on his face, stood confidently amongst the claustrophobic metropolis of bodies surrounding him, before shrugging unapologetically.

"What; you weren't paying attention? He literally told us less than a minute ago" he chuckled, arcing his eyes around the rest of the group.

"Yeah, and if this know-it-all wimp wasn't killing our ears with his stupid ramblings about outdated technology, we wouldn't all be half-asleep! This is the twenty-first century, for God's sake; no car has a 'carburettor' or a 'distributor' anymore. Do you know how you fix a car today? You just pick up the phone and call your fucking garage, that's how! Why the hell is he teaching us _any_ of this shit?!" It seemed Sod's law had chosen to strike at that moment, placing the most loud-mouthed, arrogant, and most importantly, domineering member of the group right at the very front. Throughout the lecture, Jeff, a stocky grey rhino, had done nothing but either over-dramatically pretend to fall asleep, or mock what was being said by flapping his hand like a mouth; his outburst had prompted copious nods of approval and even a few mumblings of agreement. Glancing back at the humiliated dog, Connor was mildly surprised to see him tightly clenching his fists; his cheeks turning increasingly red as he did so.

"Well…well, if _you_ would take more of an interest in the inner-workings of cars, instead of treating them like soulless, A-to-B human-cargo boxes, you narrow-minded rock-brain, then _just maybe_ you'd find some value in what I'm talking about!" His voice rose to a shout, with silence abruptly befalling the group. Many pairs of surprised eyes turned back to face him, with none more so than Jeff's.

"What did you just call me? Go on; say that to my face!" he growled, flexing his muscles and advancing on him. Sam stood as defiant as he could, but Connor had never seen the colour drain out of someone's face as fast as he did here; the dog's face turned abruptly from a deep red to a ghostly white faster than he could blink. Realising what was about to happen, he darted to a tool-bench and fumbled for the largest spanner he could see, before breaking from the group and running towards the Land Rover. Jeff had reached Sam by this point, and thrust his hand around his throat before pulling him upwards and kicking the step ladder away from underneath his battered red baseball boots, leaving him dangling in the air, supported only by Jeff's clasped hand. However, he'd made the classic bully error of focusing too much on one target, failing to see Connor taking a clumsy, but well-aimed swing directly at his outstretched arm. The cold steel spanner whacked against the rhino's elbow with a resounding impact, immediately causing Jeff to yelp, more with surprise than pain, jerk his arm backwards and release his grip. With his vital platform gone, the dog dropped to the ground and stumbled forwards onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Panting quickly with adrenaline, Connor pierced his glare into Jeff's eyes; his message as clear as day.

"What's the matter Jeff, you too proud to take a little insult? Leave Sam alone and get outta' here. In fact, all of you, clear out; you've made it painfully obvious you don't give a shit, so piss off!" Rubbing his elbow, the rhino attempted to make himself as tall as possible, before flipping the bird to the pair of them.

"Pff, you're not worth my time; I'll leave it t' Humphrey to kick the shit outta' you" he growled, turning on his heel and shoving people aside as he marched out of the garage. Not knowing quite where to look, the rest of the group quietly followed suit, but with a few showing acknowledgements they'd been too scared to do before by nodding, or giving Connor a brief thumbs-up. Once the cluster of forest-camo-attired bodies had gone, Connor sympathetically glanced down to the humiliated dog; his hands-and-knees position on the ground ironically similar to the domesticated animal that the anthropomorphic world had tried so hard to distance themselves from.

"You didn't have to do that, you know; I _was_ out of line for that outburst, but…I just…" his speech became increasingly mumbled, and, upon further inspection, Connor could see glistening beads of tears forming just below his eyes.

"You okay there, pal? How badly did Jeff-"

"No, no it's not that. It's…I just can't stand it when people are so goddamn ignorant about things, especially vehicles. I could see it from the moment I started this sodding lecture; no-one was the least-bit interested in _anything_ I was saying." Connor found himself chuckling in response.

"You don't need to explain yourself, Sam; no-one likes Jeff. Hell, he was _lookin'_ for a reason to cause trouble; the only reason he was able to get away with all of that is simply because he knows people are shit-scared of him. Look, lemme…" he extended his arm down and stretched out his hand, causing the dog to physically look at him and reveal his tear-stained cheeks, which he promptly wiped away. He took hold of Connor's hand and was pulled to his feet, attempting to retain what little dignity he had left.

"Thanks; thanks for sticking around, for a start. Call me Shepps, by the way; I only used my real name to make people take me seriously, and that _clearly_ went down well." Connor raised his eyebrows.

" _Shepps_? Odd nickname; why-"

"It's because I'm part Shetland Sheepdog, alright?"

"Well you sure don't _look_ like one; you look like a grey Labrador with Beagle ears and-"

"Do you mind?!" The dog snapped abruptly, shooting a fierce glare into his eyes; enough to make even Connor back down.

"O.K pal; sorry, that was kinda' personal, I admit."

"Just…just leave it, alright; look, I have to ask, how come you were the only one listening?" Connor chuckled in response.

"It's simple; I like cars; 'have done since I could walk. I've hardly found anything at this wretched dump I enjoy, and vehicle maintenance classes _would_ 've been the exception, were it not for the fact that the Camp's resident mechanic is the most boring person my ears have ever had the pain of listening to. At least Humphrey makes you shit your pants whenever he talks to you, but Milton's like listening to a robot with a slowed-down voice processor. Yeah you were nervous, but who wouldn't be? At least you were actually _interested_ in what you were talkin' about." The dog's cheeks blushed with embarrassment.

"Yes, I probably was a little too enthusiastic at times; I didn't read the signs early enough it seemed. But I've tried telling people the real reason why I'm as into cars as I am; particularly the mechanical side, and they always laugh" he sighed, diverting eye contact with Connor to stare glumly at the concrete floor.

"Go on, you can tell me; I promise I won't judge" Connor reassured him, leaning casually against the front wing and gesturing openly. Shepps continued to avoid looking directly at him, but nodded reluctantly.

"Alright, maybe later. If Jeff _has_ decided to grass on me, you _probably_ don't want to be around when Humphrey finds me." Connor gave him a surprised look.

"Shepps, I'm a witness, remember? Jeff's gonna' go snivelling to Humphrey about how…oh I don't know, you attacked him, or somethin', when all you did was dent his massive ego; you need someone to back you up."

"There were enough witnesses, Connor; I'll be fine. Besides, Jeff sucks up to Humphrey like a limpet to a rock, and I'm near certain that Humphrey always believes _his_ side of the story. Plus, there's the _small_ fact that Jeff's sole reason for being there was to evaluate me as a lecturer."

"Oh… _shit_ " Connor found himself grinning, "now I agree with ya'; you _should've_ kept your thoughts to yourself."

"Well it's a little late for that, isn't it? Look, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but the best thing for me to do is to face the music. I'll tell you what, why don't you come back later this evening, after dinner? I haven't got anything on this evening; you?" Connor shook his head in response, already beginning to head towards the door.

"Nope; I'll come back at seven."

"I owe you one" Shepps called out to him, smiling with guilt and raising his hand in a goodbye gesture.

"Eight…nine…argh… _ten_ " Connor groaned, overcoming his screaming back muscles to clasp his moist, sweaty right hand around a thin metal bar as he completed one final aching hanging sit-up; his head light as a balloon as his left hand arced up to join it. He'd resisted the urge to use his long, swooping tail as an extra grip, but eventually could take no more, and begrudgingly curled it around the aptly-named bar as he pulled his boots off the cold tube and back-flipped towards the ground, releasing its grip as he swiftly crouched to cushion the fall, before standing upright and wiping beads of sweat away from his forehead, simultaneously grabbing the scruff of his vest and shaking it back and forth in a desperate bid to air it out. His body clock was nagging him to adhere to his promise with Shepps and, with the warm evening sunset projecting its rays over the courtyard, basking the area in a soft, orange tint, Connor casually sauntered away from the outdoor workout bars on the east edge of the camp, towards the semi-circular, corrugated iron structure that acted as the Camp's one-and-only garage, before gingerly knocking twice on the door.

" _Crash._..ow! Argh, for pity's sake!" A wave of alarming racket followed, before Shepps poked his head around the flimsy iron door; his baseball cap gone and his muzzle covered in oil.

"You…O.K there?" Connor inquired with a mix of amusement and concern. Shepps nodded quickly; his breathing rapid and tense.

"Yes, I'm-I'm fine; you just happened to catch me right after I'd removed the rustiest bolts imaginable. They were for the oil pan in case you were wondering; _I've_ certainly found the answer as to why the engine was running so poorly when I started working on it."

"I think I've already figured that one out; your face is more black than grey" Connor chuckled, leaning against the door.

"Well you don't exactly look relaxed as a rug either; I take it you've been working out? Oh, sorry, do come in." Shepps hurriedly pulled the door open and gestured inside, before shutting the door behind Connor as he sauntered through.

"Yeah, I had…" Connor trailed off as the sheer amount of tidying Shepps had had to do before the class had come in earlier became immediately apparent; spanners and bolts littered the floor, accompanied by large puddles of oil and other unknown substances meandering their way along cracks in the concrete. Above the reek of mechanical substances, though, a rather more appetising smell had found its way into Connor's nostrils; his eyes followed the scent like a sniper, widening with joy as they settled upon an opened pizza-box with an entire, untouched pepperoni pizza inside it.

"Wait, I didn't know you were allowed to order in" he inquired, cautiously approaching the pizza; Shepps chuckled, somewhat nervously, in response as he re-located his baseball cap.

"Well _technically_ you're not, but about an hour before you got here, I finally managed to get the engine going. I'm surprised you didn't hear it; a de-catted straight-pipe hooked up to a three-and-a-half litre Rover V8? I'm glad no-one was asleep" he quipped, thwacking the front wing with grim affection.

"So why-"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? This is Humphrey's car; I'm doing him a favour by fixing it for free. It needed a near-complete engine rebuild, suspension re-aligning; the works. All the other garages he tried either flat out refused, or obviously offered a price he thought was too high, so he came to me. The fact I was able to show him his car with a working engine _probably_ played a big part in why he didn't beat the living daylights out of me earlier; yes, Jeff did snitch on me, but I was only given a stern reprimand about the impartiality of being a lecturer. He wasn't too happy when I asked if I could order in, but eventually he agreed." Connor's eyes narrowed.

"Wait, you're not trying to sucker up to him like Jeff, are you?" he hissed, sticking an interrogating finger at Shepps; the dog frantically waved his hands in front of his face.

"No…no, not at all", he stammered, " _he_ asked _me_ to fix it. I mean, I don't claim to be an expert mechanic or anything, but I do enjoy fixing cars in my spare time."

"Learned it from your parents or somethin'?" Connor asked, his eyes glancing between Shepps and the awfully appetising pizza.

"Well…sort of. I'll explain in a bit, but I take it you must be hungry? Quite apart from the fact you've looked at that pizza more than you've looked at me since you got here, the food at the canteen has been some of the worst I've ever had the displeasure to stomach, and I speak as a vegetarian; seriously, how can anyone possibly ruin a salad that badly?" Connor suddenly noticed something painfully obvious about the pizza, but it was a sight that clearly conflicted with what the dog had just said.

"Wait, this is a _pepperoni_ pizza; how come…?" Shepps' smile vanished in a flash; replaced by unmistakeable meekness.

"Well…you see…I thought that since you were coming…" Connor's eyes widened.

"You didn't buy this pizza just for _me_ , did you?!" The dog's cheeks blushed an alarmingly deep shade of rose.

"Erm…well, you did save me from Jeff earlier, and…look, it was the least I could do." It was Connor's turn to blush; this time with guilt as well as embarrassment.

"Come on Shepps, you really didn't have to! No," he began picking pieces of pepperoni off one side of the pizza "you have this half; you've spent God knows how long fixing this piece of shit, _and_ you've spent your own money on this. I'd…I'd feel awful if I ate it; hell, I already do! Besides, I don't need a whole pizza; the meatloaf really wasn't _that_ bad."

"It's fine; I'm not hungry…" Shepps began, but a second later, as if on cue, his stomach began to growl loudly.

" _Yeah_ ," Connor muttered grimly, "you keep telling yourself that; have the other half, I mean it."

"Alright, if you insist" Shepps sighed, slowly sauntering over to the pizza and tearing the nearest slice away from it as Connor did the same.

"Look, take your mind off it" Connor mumbled; his mouth full of dough, "you were going to tell me about where your love of cars came from earlier, remember?" Upon swallowing his mouthful, Shepps' smile returned, accompanied by a new-found ease to his aurora.

"Oh yes, _that_. Well, like you, I'd realised my passion from an early age; ever since I was three I've been next to, inside and underneath numerous different cars, but mostly Toyotas, and that's because…alright, have you ever heard of the Station Square Toyota Rally team?" Connor put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth as he racked his brain.

"Uh, a bit; I've heard their name brought up in a couple o' documentaries and such."

"Well…uh…my family runs the team, you see." Connor's eyes widened considerably.

"Really?! Wow, that's awesome!" Shepps looked very surprised.

"You mean it?"

"Yeah! What I wouldn't give to have a family like that!" Visible relief washed over Shepps' face.

"Th…thanks pal; you're the first person who's done anything other than snigger when I've told them that."

"Well that's their loss, isn't it? You're incredibly lucky, Shepps." The dog nodded with agreement, but began to hang his head. Connor raised his eyebrows.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I would be happier about my parents' occupation, but you see, we…we're not exactly doing very well at the moment. The last championship we won was five years ago, and so far this season we haven't won a _single_ rally we've entered; heck, half of them we didn't even finish."

"Why?" Connor inquired sympathetically, and somewhat incredulously. Shepps sighed with a hint of contempt, and gently placed the half-eaten, greasy pizza slice back into its box.

"There's one major weak link in the chain, and one that's sort of a requirement for a successful team; the drivers. I don't want to mingle with the whole 'drivers were "men" in those days' argument, but my parents have gone to great lengths over my life to tell me how, back in the team's glory days, our drivers were not only far more skilled than the ones we hired recently, but they rarely, if ever, complained. Nowadays, there's this awful culture of blame within the team; drivers and co-drivers blaming each other, the mechanics blaming the course surveyor, and so on. The biggest problem has become the sponsors; they _demand_ results, and without them, we've got no backbone; quite literally." Connor's face fell.

"Oh, that's…shit luck; really is. Is there any way outta' this?" Shepps shook his head, sighing forlornly.

"Not as far as I can see; we can't fire the drivers because, firstly, they've formed a strong trade union, and more importantly, there are incredibly few drivers even available at the moment; least of all drivers who would actually _want_ to race for a failing team. I mean, my Dad's trying to arrange a test day next week for potential recruits, but _no-one's_ signed up. In the past Toyota did send us one of their works drivers, but that was twenty years ago; we-" Connor's brain suddenly remembered something that was parked, abandoned in the garage back home; something that would be of vital use, both to Shepps, and to him.

"Actually Shepps, there _is_ somethin' you can do for me" he cut in.

"Yes?" he inquired, a little miffed at Connor's interruption.

"Well…my Mom owned this old Toyota before…well, I don't wanna' talk about what happened. I managed to hold onto it when my Da- I mean, when _I_ got moved into my foster home."

" _Foster home_?!" Shepps exclaimed; his eyes widening considerably, "oh, I…my condolences; what happened to your parents?"

"They died in a house fire a year ago" Connor spat grimly, "but I'm long-since over it; I really don't wanna' talk about it. Anyways, this old Toyota; it was a 'Celica', I think. It's really old; like, early seventies." Shepps' sympathetic look vanished, to be replaced with one of pure elation.

"You mean a TA22?!"

"Uh...I guess?"

"Wow! That's- ah, I should probably explain; a TA22 Celica was the very first car that my Dad rallied back in the early eighties; funnily enough he met my Mom when the team he was driving for at the time hired her as a co-driver!" Connor sniggered.

"So I guess you could say she became his co-driver for life?"

"Something like that. Seriously though, that's awesome; I'd love to come round and see it sometime." Connor's fingers danced in-between one another.

"That's the thing Shepps, I was…sorta hoping you'd come and see it tonight." The dog became visibly puzzled.

"Tonight?! Why?"

"Uh…because Social Services are comin' to scrap it tomorrow; I tried to argue with them, but you can't argue with people who have a goddamn checklist where their brains should be. More to the point, that car…it means a lot to me, ya' see; even though it used to belong to my Mom, my Dad…ended up takin' ownership of it, let's put it that way, but he never bothered to maintain it properly and kinda' 'fell out' with it; he _hated_ that car, more to the point." His spiel had exactly the desired effect; Shepps' face fell, with a sympathetic expression, tinged with a frown, now upon it.

"Oh…those kinds of people rile me; you know that already. Sorry, forgive me, I shouldn't talk about your Father like that-"

"Don't sweat it Shepps; he and I never saw eye to eye, but if I could just see it run one last time, then…"

"Connor, I'd do it in a heartbeat, but…well, you do realise that official signing out hours ended…" he glanced at his watch, "…about two hours ago? You can't get out otherwise." A sly grin began to spread itself across Connor's face.

" _That_ 's where you're wrong, buddy; I know a secret way out, _and_ one that gets round the cameras, but it's best if we do it after hours. _Please;_ please pal, just this once; you'll regret it if you don't." Biting his lip, Shepps sighed as he glanced down briefly; deep in thought.

"Right, I'll do it" he responded finally, bringing his head up to face Connor directly in the eye, "but _only_ if you promise that we can be back before tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing. Have this half of the pizza; I'll tell ya' a bit more about _me_."

The eerie calls and shrieks of forest prey and predators enacting their vendettas against one another ricocheted through the night as Connor and Shepps gingerly navigated their way in between building after faceless building, before finally reaching a line of trees at the back of the camp.

"O…k, now what?" Shepps inquired, staring blankly at a tall, wire-mesh fence with a row of thick oak trees sat in a uniform row behind it, forebodingly blocking out the dark void of the forest beyond. Connor said nothing; rather his response was to saunter towards the very perimeter of the area.

"Here ya' go;" he gestured vaguely to his left, "the fence's supposed to turn ninety degrees then continue along behind us, but that crazy thunderstorm we had three weeks ago blew down a small section of it, and no-one noticed…except me, when I was _casually_ looking for a way out that avoided the cameras a few days ago." Shepps raised his eyebrows with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Wait, why were you even looking in the first place?"

"Erm…I can explain later; look, let's just get the hell outta' here before anyone claps eyes on to us." Shepps narrowed his eyes and stared at Connor intently.

"This had _better_ be worth it, Connor; I'm not putting my education on the line for a petty car, even if it _is_ a Celica." Connor grinned in response.

"Oh trust me, you won't be disappointed." Sticking as close to the other side of the fence as they dared, the duo cautiously navigated the labyrinth-like shrubbery before scaling an abrupt incline, and finally bolting over the cold, metal guard-rail that ran adjacent to the road leading away from the camp.

"Bingo" Connor whispered triumphantly, glancing around to check not only for traffic, but also to confirm they weren't being followed.

"I take it buses _do_ run at this hour, right?" Shepps questioned nervously, now decidedly less sure about what he was doing as the pair gingerly crossed the road and began to saunter along the rough, cracked tarmac towards the flimsy, road-side bus-stop a hundred metres up the road.

"Yep, and don't worry; the bus drivers know better than to ask questions."


End file.
